Summer Beach Reads

by Thayer, Nancy

  “Of course I’ll be patient with him,” Abbie assured Howell. “I love Harry.”

  “And I love you,” Howell whispered and kissed her lips, and her throat, and her collarbone. “Let’s go to bed.”

  It was like a dream life. And it was a glimpse into her future.

  Abbie slept with Howell all night through, but made sure to set her things around in the guest bedroom so that Harry would think she’d stayed there, just as she would that night.

  In the morning she made breakfast for Harry and his father, and dressed Harry for the day while Howell finished packing for his trip. She tucked Harry into his car seat and drove Howell to the airport, and she stood holding hands with Harry as they waved to Howell when he walked out to the plane. She gave Harry a perfect day—beach, library, ice-cream cone, stories—and when she went to bed at night, she couldn’t fall asleep for happiness. This was what it would be like when she married Howell.

  Friday was the first day of the traveling fair that visited Nantucket annually. It was small, but that only made it seem quaint and perfect for little children. Knowing how easily Harry got overexcited, Abbie opted to take him to the fair in the morning, to give him plenty of time to calm down by evening. When Abbie parked in the sandy lot, she saw lots of other mothers with little children. Good. That made it seem she’d made a good decision.

  The day was hot and bright, and the ground was dry and dusty, but once they’d walked through the balloon-covered arch, they entered a fantasy world of rides and arcades and music. Abbie held tight to Harry’s little hand, partly because she didn’t want to lose him in the crowd, and also to give him a sense of safety. She could tell he was overwhelmed.

  She knelt next to Harry. “What shall we do first? How about a ride on the train?”

  Harry held back. “Can you sit with me, Nanny Abbie?”

  “No, honey, I can’t. Look, the seats are just right for someone your age, and the train doesn’t go very fast.” As she spoke, the little train clacked around the track. The conductor waved and blew the whistle, which made Harry jump.

  What a strange little life the boy had had, Abbie thought. He’d ridden in jet airplanes and limos, but hadn’t seen much television and he’d certainly never been to an amusement park.

  “Why don’t we go try our hand at one of the games?” she suggested.

  It took fifteen minutes of patiently watching other children throw balls at plastic ducks, all of them walking away with a stuffed animal, before Harry tugged on Abbie’s hand and whispered that he’d like to try it.

  They got in line, and waited their turn at the wildly decorated stand. The game operator spoke gently and encouragingly to Harry. Eyes wide, Harry threw the balls three times. The third time, he knocked over a duck and got to choose a stuffed animal. He chose a seahorse with a stiff satin mane and hugged it to his chest, triumphant.

  Abbie felt pretty triumphant herself as she continued around the little fair. Harry was now brave enough to climb up inside the bright red fire truck, where he himself could push the button that activated the siren as the operator pushed another button that made the truck rock back and forth. After that, Harry was ready for the train, and he liked that so much he asked if he could go around three more times. Abbie was delighted. She’d bet that the seahorse Harry had clutched to his chest was providing him with courage, or at least a sense of companionship. Sydney was so wrong to deprive Harry of the experience of horses!

  The tantalizing aroma of hot dogs drifted through the air. Abbie was pretty sure Harry hadn’t had a hot dog at a fair before. She bought one for each of them and laughed to see how quickly Harry devoured his. He was still hungry, so she prudently bought him a cup of milk, and then allowed him a cone of cotton candy for his dessert. Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he was allowed to choose either pink or blue, and when he tasted the concoction, he broke into a surprised smile.

  “This is really good, Nanny Abbie,” Harry said. “Would you like a taste?”

  She almost cried with pleasure at his offer. “No, thanks, Harry. It’s all for you.”

  It was noon, and the sun beat down fiercely. She took Harry to the little Porta Potti, which was an adventure in itself for the child. She wiped his hands and face with the hygienic wipes she carried in her purse, and spread more sunblock over his nose and cheeks and insisted he wear his baseball cap to shade his face. He obeyed easily, as eager as any other child to get back to the amusement park. She loved it when other mothers saw Abbie and smiled—as if Abbie were Harry’s mother!

  Which she kind of almost was.

  Harry went on the train two more times, and then sat in a helicopter as it jolted back and forth, making a whirring, whapping sound even though the blades didn’t really move. The Ferris wheel was very small, but the seats were large enough for adults as well as children, so Abbie and Harry sat together, Harry clutching her hand tightly as they rose high into the sky. Or what seemed high to Harry—Abbie thought it probably didn’t go more than twenty feet off the ground.

  “How about the carousel?” Abbie asked next. Harry had stared at it in consternation when they first arrived. Loud music overwhelmed him, and the carousel music was loud.

  “Okay,” Harry announced bravely. “If you come with me, Nanny Abbie.”

  “Of course!” Abbie waited until the carousel stopped, then led Harry up onto the platform. “What color horse would you like to ride? Black? White?”

  “The Appaloosa,” Harry announced, proud of knowing the word.

  Abbie led him to the painted horse and lifted him onto its back. “Now hold tight, right here on the pommel of the saddle,” she instructed.

  Harry clasped the pommel in one hand, but kept hold of his seahorse with the other. He gawked openmouthed at all the painted horses with their jeweled saddles and arched tails and streaming manes, and all the other children who were being lifted up onto their own horses.

  “Why don’t you let me hold your seahorse so you can use both hands on the reins,” Abbie suggested.

  Harry only shook his head.

  Abbie hooked her bag over her shoulder so she could keep one hand on Harry’s back and hold on to the pole with the other. “Your horse has spots, Harry. What do you think his name is?”

  “Slappy!” Harry crowed, laughing.

  Abbie laughed back, loving it that he’d remember the real horse Shelley had let him ride.

  With a jolt, the merry-go-round began to revolve. Harry’s face lit up as his horse dipped and rose.

  “This is fun!” he yelled, laughing. “We’re going fast, Nanny Abbie!”

  “I know! Hang on tight!”

  They circled around, the music tinkling, while mothers and fathers and grandparents stood on the ground waving at them. Harry grinned from ear to ear.

  Suddenly, “Oh, no!” he cried. He had dropped his seahorse.

  Abbie saw it land on the wooden board between two horses.

  “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll get it,” Abbie said.

  She bent to pick up the stuffed bit of satin.

  As she stood up, she heard Harry scream.

  She caught a flash of his leather sandal as the little boy slipped sideways off his horse, his thin legs whipping into the air. Helplessly she watched his head knock into the horse next to his. She tore around the moving horse but Harry slammed to the platform of the carousel before she could break his fall.

  “Harry!” Abbie threw herself next to the child, trying to gather him into her arms. The movement of the carousel unbalanced her and threw her sideways. “Stop!” she yelled.

  Harry was caught between the poles of two horses, his arms and legs flailing. He was screaming at the top of his lungs.

  “Harry, Harry, you’re okay, honey, Harry, let me help you.” She leaned forward, and the carousel’s motion made her lurch, falling against the child. She steadied herself with one hand. “Harry, you’re okay.”

  But she could see that he was bleeding from his head.

/>   The carousel was slowing now, the spinning easing, the horses pausing. Abbie reached out to pick Harry up.

  The little boy fought away from her, a little whirlwind of flailing arms and kicking legs.

  “Mommy!” he cried. “Daddy! Mommy!”

  “Harry, Harry, calm down, let me help you—” She tried to sound both soothing and authoritative.

  “Mommy! I want my mommy!” The child arched his back and twisted away, inadvertently kicking Abbie hard in the stomach.

  Harry was out of control, shrieking in a full-force tantrum. Abbie was aware of the other adults and children watching them. Judging them. Sweat trickled down her face, all her skin seemed on fire with embarrassment.

  “We’ll get your mommy. Calm down, Harry, let me help you get off the carousel and then we’ll go call your mommy.”

  “I want my mommy!” Harry’s shrieks were lessening. His little body convulsed as he sobbed. “I want my mommy! I want my mommy!”

  Abbie finally was able to get her arms around the child. She held him against her and staggered to her feet. Someone put a guiding hand beneath her elbow, steadying her as she lurched around the horses and stepped down onto the ground.

  A crowd had gathered around them. Someone said, “Here’s a bench. Sit down.”

  She half fell onto the bench. Harry was sobbing relentlessly in her arms.

  “I’m a nurse.” The woman was older, gray-haired, comfortably plump. “Let me look at him.”

  “Thank you,” Abbie said gratefully.

  The nurse tried to peel Harry away from Abbie, but he clung to Abbie, digging his fingers into her shoulders. His knees jammed into her rib cage and one foot kicked her arm hard.

  “Stay there,” the nurse said. She walked around to the back of the bench and squatted down.

  Harry’s face was pressed against Abbie’s shoulder, but the nurse could see his temple.

  “He’s got a big goose egg,” she said. “That’s good. The swelling’s gone out, not in. He’s scraped his cheek. That’s where the blood is coming from. He just needs a pack of ice.” Standing up, she said to the crowd, “We need ice. Other than that, he’s okay. You can all leave now.”

  As if sensing the power of her authority, the crowd began to disperse. A young man ran up with a silver ice pack in his hand. “We keep some here, for accidents like this,” he said. “You think he’s okay?”

  The nurse bent toward Harry, attempting to put the ice pack next to the child’s face, but when he felt it, Harry screamed louder and threw himself away from the nurse, almost propelling himself out of Abbie’s arms.

  “I guess no ice,” the nurse said. She came around and sat down next to Abbie. “I think he’s okay. He didn’t lose consciousness. His eyes are tracking fine. The scrape on the side of his face has already stopped bleeding. Children’s heads and faces bleed a lot, don’t let it worry you. You need to keep an eye on him for about twenty minutes. He might throw up. If he does, don’t worry, as long as it’s only once or twice.”

  “I might throw up,” Abbie muttered.

  Harry had subsided against her again, his sobs weakening, his little body calming.

  “I want my mommy,” he cried pitifully. “Please, Nanny Abbie. I want my mommy.”

  Abbie thought her heart would break.

  39

  Emma

  Emma sat at the kitchen table with her father and Marina, eating the seared garden vegetables and sausage Marina had prepared. Cinnamon crouched beneath the table, purring as he ate the bit of sausage Emma had slipped him.

  “Too spicy?” Marina asked.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just wired.” She gave Marina a quick, complicitous glance. Marina grinned.

  The front door slammed and Lily hurried into the kitchen. “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving!” She threw herself into a chair and bent over to remove a high-heeled stiletto sandal. “And do we have any Band-Aids? I’ve got a blister from Carrie’s shoes and it’s killing me.”

  “Yes, there is food,” Emma informed Lily, “thanks to Marina. She went to the grocery store, and cooked dinner.”

  Lily ignored her. She had her foot in both hands and was scrutinizing the blister. “If I can’t wear the silver heels tonight, my whole outfit will be ruined.”

  “Actually, Lily,” Marina said apologetically, “I only made enough dinner for the three of us. Abbie told me this morning she wouldn’t be home for dinner, and I wasn’t sure about you—you’ve been gone for the past few nights. But there’s plenty of cheese and bread and veggies.”

  “I guess that will be okay,” Lily said.

  Emma flashed a look at Marina and then at her father, who had gone into deaf robot mode, focusing on his food and not on the conversation. Emma put down her fork.

  “Honey,” she said gently to Lily, “why don’t you fix your dinner yourself? Marina’s eating now and probably doesn’t want her food to get cold.”

  “Yeah, and that could happen fast on a cold night like this,” Lily muttered sarcastically.

  Jim dropped his napkin on the table, pushed back his chair, and rose. “Well, ladies, I’m off.”

  “Where are you going, Dad?” Lily asked.

  “Poker night with the fellows.” Jim pecked a kiss on top of Emma’s head and Lily’s and then a longer kiss on Marina’s cheek. “Great dinner. Thanks, Marina.”

  “Have fun,” she told him.

  “See you later,” he told her.

  Emma rolled her eyes at her father’s gooey tone. She pushed her plate toward Lily. “You can have mine if you want. I’m not hungry tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Lily said, and began to eat.

  Marina asked, “So what time do we have to be there?”

  “I think about nine. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes to get in and out, and we can park the car a couple of houses away. It should only take a few minutes to drive to Sheila’s. I told her we’d be there around nine-thirty.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Lily asked.

  Emma flashed a warning glance at Marina. “Oh, nothing.” She stood up and opened the cabinet with the first-aid supplies. “Here’s a Band-Aid. What are you doing tonight?”

  Lily folded her arms over her chest and stubbornly insisted, “Come on, Emma. Tell me what’s going on!”

  Emma hesitated. Marina was carefully studying her plate. Emma gave her points for keeping out of it. “Look. If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret.”

  “Fine.”

  “I mean it, Lily. It’s important, really.”

  “I can keep a secret.”

  Emma sighed. “All right. It’s no big deal. More of a romp. I think someone’s taken Millicent Bracebridge’s antique lightship baskets and replaced them with new, less valuable ones. Millicent hasn’t noticed because her vision is so bad. I told Marina, and Marina got Sheila Lester to agree to evaluate the baskets and give us her opinion. But she won’t come into the house uninvited, so I’m going to smuggle them out tonight—and then smuggle them back in after Sheila’s seen them.”

  Lily narrowed her eyes. “And Marina’s helping you?”

  “Right.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me?”

  Emma laughed. “Honey, you’re never here. You always have so much going on at night. Like what do you have on your schedule tonight?”

  “The library fund-raiser,” Lily admitted. “It’s a very important occasion. Could you do it another time?”

  “No, we’ve got Sheila on board for tonight.” Emma changed the subject. “Are you staying over at Jason’s tonight?”

  “Probably.” Apparently satisfied, Lily began to eat. “Where’s Abbie?”

  “I think she’s spending the night at the Parkers’,” Emma said. “Both parents are gone so she’s doing a couple of overnights with the little boy.” Emma settled her chin in her hands and said to Marina, “I’m so worried about Abbie.”

  “I know,” Marina said. “But maybe things will resolve themselve
s after Labor Day, when the Parkers have to go back to New York.”

  “Why are you worried about Abbie?” Lily asked.

  Again, Emma and Marina exchanged glances.

  “What!” Lily dropped her fork with a clatter on the table. “You two are keeping another secret from me?”

  Marina got up and went to the sink to begin washing the pots and pans.

  Emma reminded herself that Lily was her sister, not Marina’s. And Lily looked crushed.

  “Honey, we’re not keeping anything from you.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “Abbie has a crush on her employer, that’s all.”

  Lily grinned. “Abbie’s having an affair with a married man!”

  “I didn’t say she was having an affair. As far as I know, Abbie is not having an affair, so get that out of your head. I said Abbie has a crush on the dad, that’s all.”

  Lily laughed triumphantly. “What an idiot. She ought to know better than to get involved with a married man.”

  Emma snapped. “Lily! This is just why I never want to tell you anything! You always spin it out to the most extreme.” She shoved her chair back and carried her utensils and glass to the kitchen counter. “Let me scrub those, Marina. You did all the cooking and I need to work off some cranky energy.”

  “I’m not hungry!” Lily dropped her fork on the plate with a clatter and stomped from the room.

  Marina tore off the rubber gloves and handed them to Emma. “I’m going out to the cottage to change clothes.”

  Emma grinned. “Black. Thief colors.”

  Without explaining exactly why, Emma had asked her father if she could have the pickup tonight—no way could they carry everything on a bike, and Lily had dibs on the Old Clunker.

  A little after nine, Emma turned off Main Street onto Hyacinth Lane, killed the lights, and parked the car two houses down from Millicent Bracebridge’s home.

  “Have you got the key?” Marina asked.

  “Right here.” Emma held up her wrist to show how she’d attached the key to a rubber bracelet so she wouldn’t have to worry about dropping it. “Okay, here we go!”